


Just Visiting

by Setcheti



Series: Friendly Fire [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rupert might have expected another letter...but not a surprise visit in the park.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Visiting

Rupert Giles walked through the park – or strolled, actually, since what he was doing could in no way be compared to anything so purposeful or active as a ‘walk’.  The park was near his flat, and not all that far from his favourite tea shop, and he’d gotten in the habit of just wandering around its worn paths of an early evening when going between tea shop and home.  It was a very safe place to wander at that; well-lit, well-traveled, and not frequented by any sort of criminal or supernatural element.  It was therefore ideal for a man who wanted nothing more than to think and wander in peace until he was ready to head for home. 

He’d been thinking and wandering when the man approached him from out of the growing darkness.  At first, Rupert didn’t recognize him…and then he did, and he stopped dead in surprise.  “Spike?” 

“I mostly go by Will, these days,” the other man told him, smiling.  Rupert started a little; the vampire had dropped the London street-punk accent he’d been using in Sunnydale, an affectation which had always irritated the then-Watcher to no end.  His formerly spiky short hair was longer now, just a bit longer and showing a hint of natural curl, and it was a normal brown instead of bleached white.  He’d also lost his trademark black duster, in its place wearing a short leather jacket, blue jeans and running shoes; he looked astoundingly, almost unrecognizably normal.  Seeming to read Rupert’s mind, he laughed.  “Yeah, I don’t quite look like the old days any more, do I?  I wasn’t sure you’d even recognize me.” 

“I almost didn’t.”  Rupert swallowed his shock.  “What are you doing in London?  And where is…” 

“We live in London,” the vampire told him with a shrug.  “Have since we left the States, in fact.  I knew I could get along here all right if I wanted to.  You’re not working for the Council, then?” 

He sounded like he already knew Rupert wasn’t, but the ex-Watcher answered him anyway.  “No.  They did ask, but after…well, the Council and I agreed that mistakes were made on both sides.  They sometimes consult me on…certain matters I have expertise in, but that’s the extent of it.” 

Spike, now Will, nodded.  “Glad to hear you didn’t hook back up with them.  And you’ve made a good job of the ‘consulting’, in my books.  Done some real good there, you  have.” 

His blue eyes were very, very serious when he said it, and Rupert understood.  “I’d have done better if I’d started sooner,” he replied in kind, not as bitterly as he might have done nearly a year before.  “But I’ve done what I can.”  He changed the subject, trying again to ascertain the whereabouts of the boy.  “What do you do in London, or do I want to know?” 

The vampire laughed.  “I should make one up to shock you, given an opening like that.  But the truth might make you polish those glasses of yours anyway.”  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather wallet, which flipped open to reveal a badge and identification with his picture on it.  “I work for the Yard.  On the midnight shift.” 

Rupert sucked in a breath.  The Watcher’s Council knew about Scotland Yard’s ‘midnight shift’, also called the Nightside Patrol.  A lot of the police on that particular shift were vampires, and rumor had it that there were a few half-demons and other things which belonged to it as well.  The Council didn’t like it…but then, Scotland Yard didn’t think much of the Council either, so the Watchers watched their step in London and kept clear of the Patrol whenever possible.  “Why?  Do you work for them, I mean?” 

“I’d been helping the white hats long enough, seemed like it was working for me,” Will answered in an offhand way.  “And I’ve got responsibilities now.  Can’t just go lounging about all the time anymore, living from meal to meal or smoke to smoke, now can I?” 

“No, I suppose not.”  Rupert was more relieved than he wanted to  let on.  The Patrol had probably deactivated Spike’s – or rather, Will’s – Initiative-implanted chip, then.  He doubted they would have liked the idea of it much, having as they did their own ways of keeping their ‘midnight shift’ officers under control – the Council knew it involved magic but had never been able to discover the details.  And at the moment, Rupert could have cared less about them himself.  He was only interested in one thing; the other half of the ‘we’ the vampire had mentioned.  “And how is Xander doing?” 

Will shrugged.  “Working, same as me – only he works in the office,” he added quickly when Rupert’s eyes widened in disbelief.  “The Yard sponsored a work permit for him, so he’s here all nice and legal now and getting along just fine.  Still a bit skittish around some sorts, though.”  His blue eyes darkened with something stormy and unforgiving when Rupert’s expression begged the question.  “He doesn’t much like being around humans these days, isn’t quite comfortable with trusting them.  I’m sure you can understand that.” 

Rupert wasn’t able to hold back his wince.  “He’s afraid of me?” 

“He’s afraid of the Council,” Will clarified.  “And of what you might do if they asked you to.  Why d’you think we showed up and surprised you like this in a bloody park, Rupes?  If you’d known we were coming…well, who else might have known too, and been waiting?  And before you so much as think it…it’s not paranoia if someone really was out to get you, now is it?” 

“No, of course not.”  Rupert tried very hard not to peer into the shadowed areas around them, not wanting to spook the young man he now knew was nearby.  “Although they wouldn’t…I mean, they knew about the hyena already, from the reports I’d been sending in each month.  That sort of thing isn’t all too uncommon, no one really cared about it.” 

The vampire’s laugh this time was short and slightly bitter.  “You mean no one cared about _him_ , hyena or no hyena; it doesn’t hurt to come out and say what we all already know,” he corrected.  “Question is…do they care about him now, because someone else did?” 

“No, not at all,” Rupert answered immediately.  “Although… _someone else_ , as you say, was something they cared about a great deal, or at least cared about eradicating.  I believe word was passed along to another…entity regarding the situation.” 

“Knew about that.”  Will offered him a hard, satisfied grin.  “The Yard passed along some words of its own – I think they all got to the same place.” 

Rupert thought so too: MI-5 wouldn’t have acted on just the Council’s say-so, no matter what certain self-deluded members of said Council might believe about the strength of their organization’s power and influence.  “So Xander…knows?” 

“Yeah, he knows.  I don’t lie to him.  Neither does anyone else.” 

There was a not-so-subtle threat in that, and Rupert took it as no more than he deserved.  He had long since come to terms with the idea that Xander hadn’t any reason to trust him – hadn’t, in fact, trusted him the night they’d fled Sunnydale.  It was Will who had insisted on including Rupert in their escape that night, Will who had written the ex-Watcher in London, Will who had orchestrated this surprise evening meeting. 

It was Will, and Will alone, who could get Xander to come out of the shadows this night.  Rupert could not find it in himself to resent either the vampire or the boy for that.  “I’m glad he’s treated as he deserves to be here,” was what he responded.  “He’d gotten a ‘raw deal’ in Sunnydale, as the Americans would say it.  So he enjoys working for the Yard?” 

“Seems to.”  The vampire shrugged and called back, not loudly, over his shoulder, “Oy, pet, come out and answer this git’s bloody inane questions for yourself!” 

A nearby collage of shadows split – in a patently unnatural way – and the young man Rupert had been wanting to see slid out of them to come stand just behind Will’s right shoulder.  He also was wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, and running shoes; his dark, wavy hair had been allowed to grow long, and one ear now sported a ruby stud earring which dangled a tiny gold dagger.  The expression on his face was wary, distrustful.  “G-Giles,” he said. 

Rupert Giles smiled.  “Xander.  It’s good to see you.  You look well.” 

“I’m g-good.”  The wariness didn’t dissipate.  “You?” 

“I’m working at the university library – rare books collection,” Rupert told him.  “It can be boring at times, but I find it’s rather a nice change.  What do you do for the Yard?” 

“A little bit of everything – except g-get donuts.”  A hint of what might have been a bitter smile twitched at one corner of the young man’s mouth.  “They have a woman with a cart who comes through the building so you can g-get whatever you want.” 

Will chuckled.  “Yeah, we do things the civilized way here,” he agreed.  “Even our shift has the tea trolley come ‘round.” 

“I like it.  She’s n-nice.” 

The vampire snorted.  “She’s nice to him, he means,” he told Rupert with a wink.  “She’s an old witch to the rest of us, but she spoils the boy bloody rotten.” 

Rupert had to wonder if the tea-trolley woman was an actual witch, given the shift she worked, but he didn’t ask; he didn’t want to bring up anything that could lead to questions about Willow.  He didn’t know how Xander would react to finding out the young witch was as close as Devon, sequestered there with a powerful coven that was attempting to rehabilitate her – between the influence of the Hellmouth and the influence of Buffy, the girl had been headed down a very dark road, magically speaking.  Rupert steered the stilted conversation back in a safer direction.  “So you like your job, then?” he asked Xander.  “Are you thinking to move up the ranks?” 

“Sometimes it’s a little b-boring,” Xander admitted.  “But I like it.  And I g-get to go out with the Patrol sometimes too.” 

“So yeah, he’ll eventually move up the ranks and get a badge of his own,” Will put in.  “And then we’ll have to recruit a new rookie.” 

“Who I’ll have to train,” Xander added, smiling a little.  “I just got the Patrol’s paperwork mess sorted out the w-way I want it, I’m not letting some newbie get in there and screw it up again.” 

“Listen to him.”  The vampire snorted, rolling his eyes.  “Though it is half true; he’s a bloody organizational miracle man when it comes to the files, we can actually find things now.” 

“And finding things makes the brass happy, which means we get more money and less flak.”  Xander was starting to look more relaxed and the soft, nervous stutter was disappearing. Rupert wasn’t sure whether he wanted to cheer or cry.  He was happy beyond words that the young man was finding his own place, that he was valued and respected in his position and apparently planning a future for himself…but at the same time the realization that Xander possessed talents which Rupert would have been ideally qualified to help him cultivate was a bitter pill to swallow. 

Suddenly, Xander tensed.  His head went up, almost as though he was scenting the night breeze…and then his brown eyes flashed green in the darkness.  Beside him, Will immediately went on the alert as well.  “Xan?” 

Another sniff.  “I think it’s a Grelnek,” the young man said distractedly.  “It’s probably just moving through, but…” 

“Go,” the vampire told him, and gave him a little push for good measure.  “Be careful!” he called out as Xander loped away, the darkness swallowing him up again.  “Yell if there’s more than one!” 

Rupert’s mouth was open, but no sound was coming out.  He felt as though his insides had just turned to liquid ice.  Everything he’d done, all of the hard decisions he’d made in the last year…and now to find out he’d been wrong the entire time and the girls had been… 

A strong, cold hand caught his arm and shook him; he looked up into unreadable gold eyes.  “It wasn’t out in Sunnyhell, Rupert, don’t be an arse,” the vampire snapped.  “It was locked up good and tight before he got so bloody scared – and do you think that if it _had_ been out I would have bothered comin’ after you that night?  Wouldn’t have been any reason to, now would there?” 

Rupert managed to drag in a breath.  That made sense.  Will – Spike at the time – wouldn’t have taken the risk to come for him if the hyena really had been active a year ago.  It truly wouldn’t have made any sense for him to do so, since the only person the soldiers would have been a threat to would have been Xander.  “It happened…after?” he managed. 

“Yeah.”  Will’s grip on his arm loosened.  “The doc who works our shift over at the Yard had a look, he said it was the traumatic experience, the shock of it all, that made the seals crack in the first place.  Lucky thing of it was…the bloody hyena _likes_ Xan, so the two of them worked it out.”  Gold was slowly fading back to blue.  “They’re integrated, he’s not possessed.  But I think you understand a bit better now why he’s still afraid of humans.” 

“And of me in particular.”  Rupert sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I just…for a moment I thought…” 

“I know.  But you didn’t make the wrong decision, I promise.  She was like a rabid dog, she had to be put down.  And Red…”  Will sighed himself, shaking his head.  “The area around Devon is being watched very closely, Rupert.  We know those girls, and they don’t play things under the table, no matter what they let you think when they agreed to take Red on.  They send the Yard a progress report on a regular schedule, and if it comes in wrong or don’t come at all…well, plans are in place for containing the situation.”  A faint rim of gold appeared around his eyes again.  “Another thing the Yard doc found when he checked Xan out, he found spells.  Some real nasty ones, and not all of them recent.  It looks like Red learned more than computers from your gypsy bint – and did more than just look up demons in your books.” 

Rupert moved to a nearby bench and sank down on it.  “Dear God.” 

The vampire shrugged.  “Call on whoever you want.  Just don’t tell Red where Xan is at.” 

The other man nodded.  “What kind of spells?  I need to know…” 

“All you need to know is that they were nasty, and that they’re gone now,” Will told him pointedly.  “We already gave the Devon girls the heads-up, months ago.  They changed their tack with Red that same day.”  He gave the ex-Watcher a considering look.  “Don’t suppose you’ve had yourself checked out since you got back home, have you?  Might be a good idea, just in case.” 

Rupert hadn’t, and he said as much.  “I’ll do it tomorrow.  I have friends here who are…knowledgeable, who don’t work for the Council.” 

“That’s the sort I’d pick, yeah.”  The vampire looked off in the direction Xander had gone in, squinting.  “Must have only been one Grelnek, boy’s already on his way back.” 

Sure enough, only a moment later Xander came bounding back into view and skidded to a stop at Will’s side.  He was looking windblown and much, much more alive than he had when he’d first slid out of the shadows to meet Rupert.  “One, just one, and passing through,” the young man informed the vampire.  “I made sure he saw me.  I don’t think he’ll stop until he’s out of London, not now.” 

“Probably not.”  Will clapped him on the shoulder.  “I’ll let you write it up when we get back, and then we’ll follow up later.  Hope the bloody things aren’t settin’ up a migration path through here.” 

“That would be seriously of the b-bad,” Xander agreed, the last word breaking slightly as he suddenly remembered Rupert’s presence.  Some of the aliveness leached out of him.  “Um, G-Giles…” 

Rupert shook his head.  “It’s all right, Xander.  Will explained it to me.”  He took a deep breath and stood up so he could look the nervous young man in the eye.  “But even if he hadn’t, I would never, _never_ …‘sell you out’ the way…the way…” 

“The way B-Buffy did?”  So much pain showed in those brown eyes that Rupert wanted to weep for it.  The eyes saw Rupert’s own pain, looked away from it in shame.  “I’m…I’m sorry, Giles.  I know what she m-meant to you.” 

“No.”  The eyes came back up, startled, and Rupert shook his head again.  “I loved my Slayer, yes; I loved her like the daughter I’ll never have,” he said.  “But that…Xander, you must understand.  The young woman who gave you to those vile soldiers over some silly snit…that young woman was not my daughter.  She was…a mad dog, and I did my duty to Buffy’s memory by ending it before she could hurt anyone else.”  There was more, and he hesitated for an instant, but he remembered Will’s warning that nobody lied to Xander these days and decided that the truth should be known.  “Joyce was…relieved, by all accounts, and as at least one of the men who went to the States was a friend of mine I know those accounts are accurate.  Apparently she had noticed the change in Buffy, and had been frightened by it on more than one occasion.  As had her neighbors and some of her friends.” 

Xander stared at him.  “Is she…is she all right?” 

“Yes, quite,” Rupert told him.  “She left Sunnydale and moved to New York.”  He took a chance and put out a hand, just barely touching the young man’s tense shoulder.  “She did get in touch with me before she left, through Peters.  He’d told her what had happened, and she asked me to give you something from her, should I ever see you again.”  He moved slowly, making certain the boy was all right with it before pulling him into a loose hug.  “From Joyce, Xander.” 

Xander’s arms went around him hesitantly, accepting and returning the hug before he skittishly pulled back.  He swiped at a leak that had sprung from one brown eye.  “Thank you.  I...I’m g-glad she’s happy.” 

“She is,” Rupert reassured him.  “I don’t stay in contact with her, of course, but I do keep tabs through other sources.  She is said to be doing quite well.” 

“I’m glad,” Xander repeated.  He shuffled his feet on the path, looking away and then back.  “I’m g-glad you are, too.  Doing well, that is.  Because it w-w…it w-wasn’t your fault.”  He saw the ex-Watcher’s shock and shook his head, the little gold dagger flashing in the light from the nearest streetlamp.  “It wasn’t!  Giles, Buffy w-wasn’t…she wasn’t right.  You did your best.  But she was sp-spoiled and selfish before you became her Watcher.  You didn’t m-make her that way, and nothing you could have done would have m-made her change.  Because she didn’t w-want to.”   

Will jumped in before Rupert could find a response for that.  “Whelp’s right,” he agreed.  “You tried to do the right thing by the girl, Rupes.  She wasn’t like the ones that came before, the ones you were trained to handle, and you made the best of it that you could.” 

“You gave her more than any other Watcher would have,” Xander insisted.  “Treating someone like a p-person instead of a w-weapon can’t be wrong.” 

“No, of course it isn’t,” Rupert reassured him quickly, if a bit shakily; this was not something he had expected.  “But Xander, what happened _was_ my fault, because as the only adult involved in the situation it fell to me to look out for all of you, not just for Buffy.  And on that front, I failed not just spectacularly but willfully.  I told myself that my only responsibility was to my Slayer, and in doing so I made that Slayer’s already existing problems infinitely worse.  As a result…well, here we all are.”  He sighed.  “You cannot imagine how glad I am that this fiasco did not destroy you, Xander.  But I will never forget that it could have, or that it happened on my watch.  I…I let you children down.” 

The younger man blinked at him, then shook his head.  “W-willow wasn’t your fault either.  She was…she had p-problems you couldn’t have fixed, things…things you didn’t know about.”  He sighed.  “Is she…do _you_ think she’s g-getting better?”  

Rupert winced; much as he’d like to lie about that, to offer hope… “No, no I don’t,” he admitted.  “She is…under control at the moment, but that is all.  She is still being watched very closely.” 

“In Devon,” Xander said, and almost smiled when the ex-Watcher started.  “I knew – I file the reports, r-remember?” The almost-smile fell away.  “Thanks for not lying.” 

It had been a test, Rupert realized, and one he should probably have expected to be given; one of the many things he’d realized over the past many months of painful soul-searching was that he had made a habit of coddling Willow, of making excuses for her, of not making her take responsibility for the results of her actions.  So he could not really find it in himself to blame Xander for trying to find out if the same rules still applied.  And, to that end, he smiled ruefully.  “Yourself and Will here aren’t the only ones who are turning over a new page in their life,” he said.  “Looking back, I’ve found I don’t much care for the man I was in Sunnydale.” 

“That could pretty much go for all of us, Rupes,” Will told him with a laugh.  “Livin’ on the Hellmouth doesn’t exactly turn us to our best side, now does it?”  He cocked a scarred eyebrow.  “Speakin’ of people in dear old Sunnyhell we didn’t much care for…I don’t suppose your contacts told you about Xan’s dad, did they?”  When Rupert’s expression clearly said they hadn’t, the vampire nodded.  “Well, they might not have known; it was MI-5 told us.  The cops hauled the drunken sot off to jail, and apparently the soldier boys didn’t much care for the songs he was startin’ to sing so they sort of arranged for him to get a room he could keep for a while.” 

“He’s in prison now, and he’ll never hurt be able to hurt my mom again,” Xander added.  “She w-went to live with my Aunt Alice, she’s going to be okay.”  He took a deep breath.  “See, it w-worked out right in the end.”  Another breath.  “ _All_ of it.” 

Rupert considered that, and was surprised to find that he could almost agree with it.  There was only one person whom the situation hadn’t benefited in the end…and he wasn’t entirely sure he was right about that one either.  Buffy had never wanted to be the Slayer, after all.  “Perhaps you’re right,” he agreed, knowing he was going to have to think over such an unexpected idea at a later time, to decide whether or not he was ready to let go even a part of the burden of guilt he was carrying.  “Perhaps you’re right.”


End file.
